


Try A Little Stardust

by KelpietheThundergod



Series: About Five Times The Distance [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas in the Bunker, Dean and Cas taking care of each other, Disabled Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Happy Ending, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22393747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpietheThundergod/pseuds/KelpietheThundergod
Summary: They soak for long enough that Dean actually falls into a light doze. It’s nice to just enjoy the water and the quiet for a while. It’s only been a handful of days, but Castiel has missed holding Dean like this and being close to him. His warmth and the beat of his heart are grounding, anchoring, and to Castiel it will always be special to know him this intimately.- A short story written for Dean's birthday and set in the universe ofmy dcbb About Five Times The DistanceEDIT July 2020 NOW WITH FANART :D !!!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Series: About Five Times The Distance [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1612210
Comments: 60
Kudos: 264





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jamenk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamenk/gifts).



> This fic is for Dean's Birthday and also for Caro [(jamenk on AO3 and @carolinasacco on tumblr](https://carolinasacco.tumblr.com/) , who created [the most stunning art for my dcbb About Five Times The Distance](https://cuddlemonsterdean.tumblr.com/post/180738197344/dcbb-2018-master-post) Thank you so much again Caro, I hope you will enjoy this fic! (EDIT July 2020 : Caro made some stunning art for this fic that can be found in capter 1 and 2!!)
> 
> This fic isn't the actual sequel to AFTTD, that one I'm still working on. I may have never posted this story if it hadn't been for my amazing betas, [@wigglebox](https://wigglebox.tumblr.com/) and [@malallory](http://malallory.tumblr.com/) , who helped me immensely in whipping the story into shape and encouraging me not to give up despite several setbacks <3 
> 
> For anyone reading this who's not familiar with AFTTD: in this verse, Dean has chronic migraines, neurogenic stuttering, and alexia with agraphia (inability to recognize or read written words or letters combined with loss of writing ability) following his possession by AU!Michael. Since a lot of it has to do with PTSD, Cas can't heal him but takes care of him when he needs it.
> 
> This fic is smut free but there is some nudity, a few lewd jokes, and suggestively shaped food.

Castiel has been in many different warzones in his impressively long lifetime, but Walmart the day before Christmas is a new one for him. It’s crowded, everyone seems angry about the fact that it’s crowded, and Castiel just had to fight a man in a full-body fur costume for the last box of Honey Nut Cheerios. Someone has thrown up in the canned goods aisle, and when Castiel turns his back for a moment to inspect some apples, a woman tries to steal the sliced bread out of his cart and then acts like she'd thought it was hers. 

They’ve just returned from a hunt—or, technically, two hunts, both of them nasty cases of ghost possession. They had needed to split since the cases were happening almost simultaneously, Castiel and Eileen and Jack taking on one case while Sam and Dean tackled the other. They weren't particularly hard to solve but left a string of victims, and that took its toll on all of them. 

With the holidays approaching, the entire hunter network is on high alert, determined to make sure no one's Christmas will be ruined by the supernatural. Castiel thinks it all would be so much easier if people stopped celebrating it altogether since it isn't Jesus Christ's actual birthday anyway. 

"Christmas a-a-ain't about Jesus," Dean had said, sounding downright offended by the very idea. "It's ab-b-bout fancy food a-a-and eggnog and movies. And ma-ma-making Scrooge pay."

To better coordinate their efforts and to offer a home for the holidays for every hunter who wants it, they are preparing to have the bunker not only function as headquarters but also as a sort of holiday bed and breakfast. Castiel can tell that Dean doesn't really like it—his quiet time with his family is important to him, and now "their Christmas" got pushed to a later date. But Dean didn't protest when Sam shared his plans, steadfast in his decision to let Sam take the reigns regarding the network and have his back every step of the way. 

Now, after triumphantly placing the box of cereal in his cart, Castiel consults the shopping list again. It's written in Sam's neat handwriting and is so long that Castiel feels lost every time he looks at it. This would all be so much easier if Dean were here to help.

On the way to the store, Dean had complained about still feeling tired even after two cups of coffee, so Castiel got him a third one when they stopped for gas. Dean's delight quickly morphed into grumpiness when he discovered that, while he was now more awake, there were other consequences to drinking that much coffee in quick succession. 

"Public bathrooms a-a-are gross, Cas. They're a petri d-d-dish."

His fidgeting and bad mood eventually got so annoying that Cas pushed him to the restrooms. 

"Go pee. I'll wait here."

And he _had_ meant to wait, but then he’d looked at the list and it was just so long. Surely, if he went ahead and got a few more items while Dean was busy, Dean would be grateful because that meant they could get out of the overcrowded store sooner. 

So Cas went and got the next two items. And then he figured that Dean could just call him when he came out and couldn't find Castiel on his own. 

It’s now been about twenty minutes. But there is probably a line in the restroom, or maybe Dean is shopping on his own and about to meet Castiel in the middle.

If Castiel hasn't burned down the entire place by then. 

He's just managed to obtain fresh milk while standing next to a man with an incredibly historically inaccurate replica of a samurai sword strapped to his back and whose body odor likely would have made Castiel nauseous if he was human. Suddenly, the obnoxiously happy Christmas music blaring through the speakers is interrupted by a weary voice announcing, "Mr. Cas Winchester, your husband is at register six."

With a frown, Cas looks up at the speakers, but the voice offers no further explanation. Maybe Dean is trying to mess with him? He still isn’t back. 

When Castiel calls his phone, it rings but Dean doesn’t pick up. 

Annoyed and frustrated and trying to dodge a small but persistent dog that's been following him for four aisles and keeps trying to fornicate with his leg, Castiel checks the list again. 

The last item on it is rock salt, and Castiel heaves two bags into the cart and then makes his way towards the registers. With everyone joining together as a mass with their carts, unable to form distinct lines, he has to push through both carriages and people. Why no one has set fire to the entire place yet, he does not understand. 

At long last, and using his superior strategizing skills to his advantage, he manages to navigate past a woman with three shopping carts who has a small goat strapped to her back in a baby carrier, and reaches register six. 

And there, sitting on the bench and fixing Castiel with a death glare, is Dean. 

"Where th-the fuck ha-ha-have you been?" he hisses, getting up and glaring at Castiel. He's clutching a few items to his chest—flour, icing, colorful sprinkles, and a box of what looks like cookie cutters. 

Confused, Castiel looks between the register and Dean. So it had been Dean behind this after all, and he had been trying to find Castiel instead of messing with him. What Castiel doesn’t get is why Dean went about it in such a strange way.

"Why did you come here? You could have just called me."

"My phone's a-a-at home.” The plastic of the icing package crinkles where Dean is clutching it too tightly in his ire. “It's _charging,_ which I _t-t-told_ you before we l-l-left."

"I don't recall," Castiel says, though he does, in fact, recall Dean saying something along those lines while Castiel was distracted with the impressive shopping list Sam had just handed him. He’s unwilling to admit that right now though, too pissed off still by the crowd in the store and his battle to the registers.

"Oh, he d-d-doesn't rec-c-call," Dean sneers while they move to the end of the queue. "Do you know how long I I-l-looked for you? Th-th-the things I saw?" He shudders dramatically and makes a face. "I th-th-think I saw some guy dressed as a c-c-cow pour milk in his—ugh, let's not t-t-talk about it."

"It's not my fault this place is abominable," Castiel counters haughtily while he starts to put their items on the conveyor belt. 

"Yeah, b-but you said-d-d you'd wait." Dean is pouting now, his tone changing from angry to hurt. "A-a-and then you just l-l-left me th-there."

"Dean, put your items on the belt. Why did you even take these? They were not on the list."

"D-did you even look f-f-for me?" The corners of Dean’s mouth are turned down and his shoulders are rounded and small. Under other circumstances, this would lead to Castiel softening towards him, giving Dean the reassurance he obviously needs. Right now, all he wants is to get out of the store as fast as possible and the delay is irritating him, chipping away at the last vestiges of his patience. 

"Dean, put your items down," he repeats impatiently.

Dean only clutches them tighter to his chest. 

"Those are mi-mi-mine!" 

"Fine", Castiel growls. Putting a divider down, he demonstratively turns his back to Dean. 

He’s aware that he’s being short with Dean, but he doesn’t know any other way to get through this without snapping at him even more than he’s already doing.

Whoever is responsible for Walmart being the way it is, Castiel will find them and strangle them.

Dean pays for his items himself and doesn't help at all with putting their haul back into the cart. He seems to be taking special care to hide his cookie cutters from Castiel, not that Castiel is at all interested in the things. 

He assists Castiel in storing away their groceries in the trunk, but even though they’re out of the store now, their irritation remains. They’re still arguing by the time they walk back into the bunker, arms loaded with groceries and the bags of rock salt.

“I don’t even l-l-like soup.”

“You said you would be okay with it as long as there was meat in it.”

“Well, I’ve cha-a-anged my m—my m-m-mind.”

“That’s your problem then.”

Sam and Eileen are sitting at the kitchen table, laptops open and documents spread out between them. They were probably enjoying their coffee while having a peaceful conversation before Dean and Castiel came in. Now, they look at the two of them with confused expressions. 

"Uh, guys? Everything okay?" 

Dean, who had been completely ignoring the two of them, whirls on them now. 

"I w-w-went to go take a piss and _he—_ " Dean points an accusing finger at Castiel, his agitation unmistakable in the way his disfluency worsens, "Said-d-d he'd _w-w-wait,_ a-a-and th-th-then he ju-just _fucked off.”_

Dean grabs his box of cookie cutters that's he's been hiding under one of the empty shopping bags, shoulders past Castiel, and stalks out. Tense silence follows his departure. 

With a defeated sigh, Castiel sits down beside Eileen and puts his head in his hands. 

"There, there," she says, patting his back. Castiel hopes that Sam relayed to her what they were arguing about—she can't read Dean's lips when he is this disfluent. 

"You okay, Cas?" Sam asks. 

From behind his hands, Castiel growls, "No.”

“You want some help?”

Lifting his head, Castiel looks at Sam pleadingly.

Sam chuckles lightly. "Alright, okay." Then his voice gets more serious. "You understand that saying you're gonna wait and then leaving _is_ kind of rude, right?"

Castiel sighs. “I know. I was just stressed before, and annoyed. I wanted to get out of the store, and it didn’t make sense to me why Dean would call me to the register like that because I’d forgotten he didn’t have his phone.” He rubs a hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean for this to turn into a fight.”

Looking between Sam and Eileen, he asks, “What do you think I should do?”

“Say you’re sorry for leaving and that you’ll make it up to him,” Sam advises, signing as he speaks. “Offer to do something you both enjoy. Something relaxing so you can _both_ wind down a little.”

Eileen chimes in with, “Maybe try a bath. We bought Epsom bath salt. You can say you stole it from us, he’ll like that.”

She smiles at him and winks, and Castiel feels the last vestiges of his frustration drain away, replaced by warmth. 

It’s good to have a family.

  
  
  


In the bathroom that holds the large tub, Castiel takes off his trenchcoat, rolls up his sleeves, and gets to work. 

He finds the Epsom salt stashed under the sink, and also a handful of orange and cinnamon scented candles. When the tub is a quarter of the way full, he stops the water, unsure how long it will take him to coax Dean into the bathroom and unwilling to let all the water grow cold and sabotage his plan. 

He finds Dean in their room, curled up on Castiel's side of the bed and engaged in an angry staring contest with the wall. The cookie cutters are nowhere to be seen. 

With a sigh, Castiel lets the door click shut behind him and then sits down on the bed behind Dean. Dean doesn't verbally acknowledge him but Castiel can see his back tense. 

"Dean… I'm sorry I left when I said I would wait. I didn't mean to distress you or make you worry." The regret in his voice is genuine, and Dean must hear it too, because to Castiel's surprise he rolls over to face him, though his eyes are still guarded. 

"I'd like to make it up to you. Would you like a bath? I've, um. I've maybe stolen Sam and Eileen's Epsom salt. Please don't tell them."

The expression on Dean's face changes from suspicious to mischievous. His eyes light up and a slow smile spreads on his face. "You d-did?" He asks, his voice soft and a little awed, like he's genuinely touched Castiel did something morally questionable for him. 

Castiel did steal the candles, so he thinks it still counts. 

"I did. Come on."

  
  
  


In the bath, Dean looks around and then nudges Castiel's shoulder with his. "W-w-went all out, huh?" There's a rosy blush on his cheeks, like Castiel filling a tub with hot water and lighting a few scented candles is some hugely luxurious gift to him. Castiel vows to himself to do small things like this more often for Dean from now on. 

While Dean undresses, Castiel fills the tub up the rest of the way, steam wafting up into the air. Dean sinks into the water with a groan of contentment, and then reaches up and starts tugging insistently on Castiel's pant leg. 

"Quit ogling me and ge-ge-get in he-here, dumbass."

He scoots forward in the tub, and Castiel eyes the space behind him hesitantly. "I might be too big to fit in there," he cautions, which, inexplicably, makes Dean huff out a breath of laughter. 

"Alright, big boy, sh-sh-show us w-w-what you got." He says with a wink and a leer. And then with a fond eye roll at Castiel's confused expression, "G-g-get naked, dummy."

It _is_ a tight fit, but Dean doesn't seem to mind. Lying between Castiel's legs, Dean rests with his back against Castiel's chest and leans his head on his shoulder with a blissful sigh. 

Not knowing where to put his hands, Castiel has rested them on the edge of the tub, but Dean has other ideas. "I'm _l-l-literally_ sit-t-ting on your dick, Cas, quit a-a-acting like a virgin at prom ni-ni-night." Snatching Castiel's hands up, Dean plunges them under the water to rest on his belly where he intertwines their fingers. 

“Mm, th-that’s nice.” 

He closes his eyes and goes pliant against Castiel, basically melting into the bathwater. 

“Cas?”

“Yes?”

“You’re forg-g-given.”

  
  
  


They soak for long enough that Dean actually falls into a light doze. It’s nice to just enjoy the water and the quiet for a while. It’s only been a handful of days, but he’s missed holding Dean like this and being close to him. His warmth and the beat of his heart are grounding, anchoring, and to Castiel it will always be special to know him this intimately. 

There’s a couple of shampoo and shower gel bottles next to the tub. Castiel nudges Dean awake, coaxes him to sit up a little. Craning his neck to see what Castiel is doing, Dean starts to smirk when Castiel selects a shower gel that has essential oil mixed into it and squirts some into his palm. 

“You pl-l-lanning on g-g-giving me a happy ending, Ca— _mmm, oh fuck yes-s-s.”_

Swiping his hands up and down Dean’s back to spread the shower gel, Castiel starts to massage Dean’s neck and shoulders. 

“Good?"

All he gets in return is a blend of a sigh and a moan. 

By the time they finally leave the bath, Dean is loose-limbed and has a permanent smile on his face. He makes good-natured fun of the way Castiel’s hair curls behind his ears from the humidity and presses a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. 

“Lie d-d-down for a bit ‘n cuddle?” Dean requests when Castiel asks what he wants to do next.

The twinkle in Dean’s eyes suggests he’s probably looking to make out, but the moment they lie down, he starts yawning. He curls into Castiel’s chest like an overgrown cat and seconds later, he’s snoring. 

Castiel lies beside him, stroking his back until he’s sure that Dean’s deeply asleep. Then he pulls a blanket over the both of them and reaches over to this bedside table for a book.

  
  
  


“Thank you again for your advice, both of you. Dean was quite thrilled with the Epsom salt.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I believe he has taken the rest of your stash and hidden it somewhere.”

“...Goddammit.”

“He said it made him able to poop really well.”

Eileen laughs at the queasy look on Sam’s face. 

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam says, the picture of regret. “That’s—thanks.”

“I better get back. We’re about to rewatch Tombstone, but Dean expressed a craving for mini marshmallows.”


	2. Chapter 2

While Castiel couldn’t care less about Christmas, he would have liked to experience the upcoming Winchester version of it. The version where they take care of others first and then get to have some family time—Dean annoying Castiel into trying the food, everyone having some eggnog while arguing over which movies to watch. Jack would get some presents, and Dean would keep on demanding mistletoe kisses from Castiel, even though their “mistletoe” is a green and red checkered kitchen towel that Dean randomly hangs places to “prank” Castiel into kissing him. 

It had sounded so nice, sounded like something Castiel wanted.

But Castiel is a Winchester, and Winchesters rarely get what they want. 

At not even 5 o’clock on Christmas morning, there’s banging on their door that’s so loud that Dean’s upright and has his gun drawn before he’s even fully awake. He blinks owlishly at Castiel, who had been knitting and almost stabbed himself with one of the needles when the banging startled him even through the noise of the podcast he was listening to.

“Guys, we got a situation!”

Sam sounds urgent, and Castiel quickly puts his shoes on and grabs his trenchcoat.

Two minutes later, they’re all gathered in the library. Sam and Eileen and Maggie are already dressed and stand alongside Mary, who arrived yesterday to take part in the celebrations they were hoping for. Dean and Jack gather next to each other, still dressed in their pajamas.

“So get this,” Sam is saying. “That thing up in Hot Springs, South Dakota, that we thought was probably just a couple of ghouls gone rogue? Is heavy duty black magic. I’ve already called Rowena, she’s going to meet us there.” Addressing Maggie, he asks her to stay back and take care of things at the bunker, but Castiel is no longer really listening. 

None of them particularly care about Christmas, but Christmas is also a human thing, and Castiel doesn’t want Jack to spend it fighting monsters. Maybe it is selfish of him, but he had made a promise to Kelly to care for Jack, and he intends to honor it. 

Castiel is about to speak up, even though he is not sure how to say this without hurting Jack’s feelings, when he notices Dean watching him. Has he been doing that this entire time and Castiel only now noticed? He frowns at Dean in confusion. 

Shifting his stance, Dean clears his throat. “How ‘bout me a-a-and Jack st-t-tay here?” It’s like he’s read Castiel’s thoughts, though he is no longer looking at him, firmly focusing on Sam. “You guys got th-this. I’m not good w-w-with witch stuff, but you’re l-l-like Row-w-wena’s apprent-t-tice at this point. And c’mon, you’re go-go-gonna have Maggie ha-a-andle the netw-w-work _and_ the hunters that c-c-come here _a-a-and_ the food all on her own? And look up crap f-f-for you guys in the library w-when you need it?”

“Dean’s right,” Jack says, to Castiel’s utter relief. “Besides, if you guys get yourself captured, you’ll need someone here to save you.”

Castiel can see that Sam argues back and forth with himself about this for a few seconds, but then he nods decisively. “We’ll keep you up to date. Everyone else, let’s go.”

Dean claps Sam on the shoulder, “St-t-tay safe.” Then he draws Castiel in for a quick hug, “You too.”

“Of course, Dean.”

It’s not until Castiel is sitting in the Impala with Sam and Eileen, Baby's windshield wipers fighting against the falling snow, that he realizes he’d left without their goodbye kisses. 

He’s just taken out his phone and is about to send Dean a few heart emojis to make up for it when Sam asks his input about the particular black magic they are going to be facing. Putting his phone away again, he forces all thoughts of kissing from his mind to make way for more urgent matters. 

The next 48 hours are frantic. After an eight-hour drive, they have to almost immediately jump into action. From then on, it's an exhausting mix of preparing spells, dabbling with theoretical magic, and scrambling to keep civilians out of harm’s way. 

Even though they definitely need the assistance of every single hunter that came with them, Castiel is immensely grateful that Dean had offered to stay behind with Jack. In this extreme frenzy, Castiel doubts any of them would have been able to keep an eye on Jack, and the high-stress level of the situation would very likely have had negatively affected Dean’s health. 

The snow in the woods is piled high enough that judging the ground beneath can be tricky, and Jules has broken her foot. Healing it drains Castiel's Grace to the point where he has to sit down and catch his breath. 

Suddenly, Sam appears at his side. There are dark bags under his eyes and a scraggly beard is covering his cheeks, but the look in his eyes is alert and sharp. It's the first time in a while they've been out in the field with a case this big, Sam especially more happy to handle the organizing and the lore-providing side of things. Sam hasn't said anything, but Castiel can tell that he'd have preferred it if his brother were here with him. While he's gotten more comfortable with leading—had to, over the months Michael had Dean—he still prefers to have both Dean's approval and his actual physical support. 

"Cas, you okay?" It seems to have been a rhetorical question, because Sam adds, "Look, you've been going nonstop. Why don't you take a break for a bit. Call Dean. He's worried."

There's little to no privacy to be had in the hunter's cabin that's functioning as their headquarters, and the cold doesn't affect Castiel much, so he steps outside to dial. 

Dean doesn't pick up. 

It doesn't have to mean anything, Castiel tells himself, trying to keep his worry and disappointment in check. Dean is likely just busy. 

For lack of anything better to do, he climbs into the backseat of the Impala and makes himself comfortable with the blanket that's stashed there. He watches the woods through the window, trying to enjoy the quiet instead of letting it unsettle him after hours of near-constant noise. 

Twenty minutes later, his phone rings. 

"Hey, handsome," Dean greets him, his tone deceptively casual and relaxed, though Castiel can hear the worry underneath. 

"Hello, Dean."

"Sorry I m-m-missed your call. K-k-kids needed help. Some idiot just ca-ca-came in with frostbite."

Dean still prefers to keep himself to the background when the hunters from the apocalypse world are concerned, though Castiel isn’t quite sure why. Dean seems careful not to accidentally undermine Sam's authority where they are concerned. It also wouldn’t surprise Castiel if the trauma of watching Sam die in the apocalypse world still strongly affected Dean.

And, while some of them are open and friendly with Dean, maybe there are also those that can’t forget that he’s the Sword. 

“I see you survived cooking and eating the soup,” Castiel teases, forcing himself to focus on a more entertaining topic. 

“It w-w-was alright. Least there w-w-were no pickles i-i-in it.”

Dean’s defensive, pouty tone makes Castiel smile. Dean _loathes_ pickles. Sometimes Castiel eats some just to annoy him. 

“I don’t think anyone would put pickles in soup, Dean.”

Dean groans.

“Sa-Sa-Sam did. T-t-to prank me. I almost puked.”

Castiel can vividly imagine it.

“I’m very sorry you had to go through that, Dean.”

“Sh-sh-shut up,” Dean says, though he sounds fond. “How a-a-are th-things on your end? Sam sound-d-ded stressed. You guys need me to hij-j-jack some wheels and drive up th-th-there?”

Castiel hesitates. 

Dean _is_ needed, but for his health—and Castiel’s peace of mind—it would be better if he stayed at home. But Castiel is not sure how to say that without coming across as selfish or making Dean feel unwanted. 

“Cas? You th-there?”

“Yes, I’m—”

Sudden knocking makes him jump. Turning his head, he sees Mary outside the car. She looks apologetic but also like whatever they need his input with can’t wait. 

“I’m sorry, I—I have to go.” He rubs his forehead, frustrated with the situation and his own inability to find the right words. “It might be selfish of me, but please—please trust me on this, and stay home.”

“...’kay.” Dean sounds a little taken aback. “But if—”

Sam has stepped out of the cabin, frantically motioning at Cas to hurry it up. Scrambling for the door handle, Castiel steps back out into the snow. 

“I have to go. I love you.”

He has to hang up before he can hear Dean’s reply, forcing his mind to focus on Sam as he rapidly shares the newest developments.

It’s another twelve hours until, finally, the witches are defeated, and they can drive back home. Dean again doesn’t pick up when Castiel calls, so he leaves him a voicemail. The hunters that came with them are staying at the cabin to rest, and Castiel drives Mary’s car back to the bunker, giving her a chance to catch a few hours of sleep in the backseat. 

When she wakes, he asks her to check his phone. In the rearview mirror, he sees her squint blearily at the screen, “Dean’s sent you a thumbs-up emoji.” Then, scrolling upwards, she smiles softly, “You send him the heart emoji a lot.”

“Stop snooping,” Castiel lectures sternly, even though, technically, little information can be gained from their text thread without listening to all the voice messages. And, well, he did ask her to check. 

Concentrating back on the snow and the road, Castiel frowns. It's unusual for Dean not to call back. 

Mary holds up her hands in an _I didn’t even do anything_ way, but the smile is still bringing light to her tired eyes. 

"How are you holding up?" She asks, leaning forward and resting her arms on the back of the front seat. 

"I'm okay to keep driving. It's only a few more hours, and you need the rest." He does feel kind of drained from the case, but he’d rather get back to the bunker and recuperate there. 

"That’s good, but… not what I meant." At Castiel's confused look, she adds, "You've been kind of quiet. Worried. So, we started worrying about you."

"Can't I worry by myself for once," Castiel complains grouchily, though he is actually kind of touched. "Must you all also start to worry?" 

“That’s family.” She nudges his shoulder lightly. “So, spill. What’s wrong?”

Sighing, Castiel adjusts his hands on the steering wheel. Snow has started to fall again. 

“I don’t know, it’s—Dean, and it’s Jack, and—” He cuts himself off, torn between wanting to talk about it and the urge to pretend that he doesn't have to.

“What about Dean and Jack?” Mary asks softly.

“When I healed Jules’s ankle earlier,” Castiel starts at length, forcing out the words, “it drained me. And that’s nothing new, but—one day it will all be gone, and I won’t be able to help Dean with his pain anymore. I will just have to—to watch, and—” 

His voice has started to waver. He takes a breath, then changes the subject.

“And Jack, I just—I just want him to be able to be a child sometimes. But I don’t know how. I can’t seem to make it happen.”

He falls quiet. Even without looking in the rearview mirror, Castiel can tell that Mary’s looking at him, that she’s been listening intently. 

“Do you think I’m overreacting?” Castiel asks, wondering himself if that's the case. 

“No. But I think you’re forgetting one thing.” Mary’s voice is very soft. “You’re not alone. You’ve got all of us here, willing to help.”

The snow is falling heavier. Castiel blinks to clear his slightly misty vision. 

“Do you feel alone in caring for Dean now?”

Castiel is quick to shake his head.

“No, that’s not it. You help. Everyone helps.”

“If it’s ever not enough—tell us. Please.” She gently squeezes his shoulder. “As for Jack—I think maybe you don’t have to worry quite so much.”

There’s a smile in her voice, and she sounds like she knows something he doesn’t. When he asks, she just laughs lightly.

“You’ll see when we’re home.” She settles into the backseat again. “I’m going to sleep some more.”

  
  
  


There’s five of them, and they were built up right next to the entry to the garage in that way no one arriving or leaving could miss them. Sam and Eileen, who had been driving ahead of Castiel and Mary, have already stopped the Impala and gotten out to investigate. 

“What the fuck,” Sam is saying, staring aghast at the snowman before him. It’s even taller than him, has a stack of papers that say “Files” under its arm and is wearing a frown and frozen lettuce for hair. There’s a nameplate hung around its neck that reads _I’m Sam and I’m a huge nerd._ “Dean, you fucking _asshat.”_

Mary and Eileen pat his back consolingly, though Castiel can see both of them trying to hide their amused smiles. 

Castiel wisely does not point out that the snowman actually does kind of look like Sam. He hadn’t known Dean has such a talent for snowman crafting—even its eyebrows look exactly like Sam’s do when he disapproves of something. He wonders who helped Dean with the writing. 

The second snowman is more traditional, and Castiel immediately knows that it was Jack who made it. It’s about Jack’s height and wearing a black top hat that Castiel wonders where they got it from. Its smile is made from tiny black beans, it has an actual carrot for a nose, and one arm is raised in a friendly wave. 

The next one looks like Elsa from Frozen. He wonders if Maggie made it, but has scarce time to appreciate the artistry when his attention is drawn to the last two snowmen. 

One has a hole where its carrot nose should be and is angrily glaring. The snowman opposite to it is smirking, and not only seems to have a carrot for a nose, it also has an even bigger carrot as a… oh.

“Ugh, what the _fuck,_ Dean?!” 

Sam looks deeply disturbed, while Mary and Eileen are leaning on each other and giggling. Eileen signs something to Mary that Castiel doesn’t catch and then both of them are laughing so hard they have to sit down in the snow, smiles wide and radiant.

  
  
  


In the bunker, only a handful of hunters remain in the war room, talking and resting, or perusing the library. They ask how the hunt went, and inform them that Jack, Maggie, and Dean are in the kitchen. 

Baking cookies.

Castiel can hear them from the hallway already, Maggie and Jack laughing and Dean mock-complaining. The air is warmer and smells like cinnamon and vanilla. 

Maggie and Jack are sitting at the kitchen table that is completely covered in baking sheets and star-shaped cookies that they are decorating with icing and sprinkles. Dean is standing at the counter and seems immersed in his own project that Castiel can't see because Dean has built a barrier of kitchen utensils around it. 

Maggie, who is sitting facing the door, is the first to notice him. "Hey, Cas! Welcome back!" It’s rare to see her look so young and carefree. 

Then Jack looks up and turns around, "Welcome back! We baked cookies!" He offers Castiel a bright, proud smile that infuses Castiel with such a burst of unexpected happiness he almost feels like he needs to sit down. "I can see that. Can I help?" 

"Of course!" 

Castiel nods to Maggie and gently squeezes Jack's shoulder, "Just give me a minute."

He walks over to Dean, who's still bent over and apparently busy decorating his own cookies. Dean's giggling to himself and the mirth in his expression makes him look about two decades younger. When Castiel gets close enough to make out the shape of the cookies, he realizes why. 

"...did you make those with the cookie cutters you hid from everyone?" 

Dean straightens a little and rolls his eyes at him, though he's still smiling. "Hello t-t-to you too, C-C-Cas. And hu-hu-hush, th-th-there are kids in the room."

At least now it makes sense why he built up a barrier around his work station. 

There are big and small ones, floppy and… not floppy ones. Dean's decorating the phallic shapes with white icing and seems to be having the time of his life. Castiel had not known they made cookie cutters in shapes like that. 

Dean looks up and winks at him. "You c-c-could help me, t-t-too. Could use a—st-t-teady hand w-w-with these." Then he giggles again like he's just made a hilarious joke. 

Cas frowns at the cookies. "You seem to be having the issue well in hand," he says, which makes Dean snort and then chuckle. Dean starts to say something else but Mary and the others have just entered the kitchen. 

Dean sees his brother and grins. 

"Heya, Sa-Sa-Sammy. How's our fav-v-vorite Mr. Lettuce Ha-Hair?" 

His previously relaxed expression morphing into a glare, Sam strides over to them. "What the fuck are those snowmen, Dean? Why do you always have to embarrass me?" 

"Aw, Sammy, d-d-don't be such a—" Dean picks up a cookie that doesn't have icing on it yet, one of the small and floppy ones, and slaps it into Sam's palm, _"l-l-little prick."_ Then he starts wheezing with laughter. 

Flabbergasted, Sam looks at the cookie in his hands, then at the other ones on the baking sheet, and then he groans when he realizes what exactly he is holding. "What the fuck, Dean? Ugh, what are you, five?" 

Castiel reaches out to steady Dean, who appears to be literally have become weak-kneed from his continued amusement at his brother's expense. It seems to be contagious too; Mary and Eileen have both given up trying to keep themselves from laughing, and finally, Sam cracks too, grinning and shaking his head, "You jerk."

"You j-j-jerk it," Dean wheezes. 

It's only now that Castiel notices the flour over Dean, Jack and Maggie's clothes, some of which is handprint shaped. There's a lot of it on Dean's clothes especially. 

"Flour ba-ba-battle," Dean explains. 

"We won!" Jack pipes up happily. 

"Th-th-they fou-fou-fought d-d-dirty," Dean complains, though he sounds more proud than annoyed. Then he nudges Castiel's shoulder and winks at him. "You w-w-wanna stay here a-a-and help me ha-ha-handle these pricks?" 

Sam groans. "Alright, that's it. I'm going to go get some sleep." Even his signing seems exhausted. "We can eat something nice later, have some eggnog and watch a movie?" 

There's agreement from all sides, though Castiel notices that Dean remains suspiciously quiet. 

Eileen and Sam leave to get some rest but Mary stays, claiming that she got enough shut-eye in the car and that if she sleeps anymore now she won't be able to at all tonight. 

She and Castiel sit down with Maggie and Jack to help them finish the stars, of which they seem to have baked enough that Castiel is not sure where they will store them all so they’ll keep.

“Dean and I watched _Treasure Planet_ yesterday, it inspired me.” Jack is favoring the chocolate icing and the round, multicolored sprinkles, taking meticulous care how he places them like he’s trying to imitate star clusters and nebulae. When he finishes one cookie, he smiles, content and happy. “I like these sprinkles. They’re like stardust.” He holds them out to Castiel. “You should try them!”

Castiel does. When Jack is busy with the next cookie, Castiel meets Dean’s eyes over his head and mouths a _thank you_ to him. Endearingly, Dean blushes and ducks his head.

Dean seems happy enough to keep working alone on his own project, but Castiel realizes what was wrong when Dean proclaims he's done and starts to clean-up:

Dean, who has such an affinity for sweets and who probably would have eaten one of his suggestively shaped cookies just to annoy his brother, hasn't munched on any of them. 

While Castiel decorates a star with sprinkles, he sneaks a glance at Dean, watching how he moves. Dean is keeping his back to the rest of them, his shoulders are stiff while he washes the bowls at the sink and his hands are visibly shaking.

Technically, it's against their agreement for Dean not to immediately tell him when he feels an episode coming, but Castiel doesn't have the heart to be cross with him today for trying to hide the signs. 

Castiel lets him have a few more moments of pretense while everyone else laughs and jokes joyfully. But when he sees Dean grip the edge of the counter to steady himself, he knows it's time. 

Getting up and walking over to him, Castiel offers, deliberately loudly, "Dean, why don't you wash yourself up? You're getting flour everywhere. I can take care of the rest."

"Uh, yeah. Th-thanks." Dean doesn't lift his head, doesn't meet Castiel's eyes, doesn't clap him on the back. He just turns and leaves. It’s only now that Castiel realizes Dean never demanded _I'm back home_ kisses from him either, probably fearing that Castiel would see through his facade right away.

There isn’t much left to be done, so Castiel just finishes scrubbing the counter and puts a few more items away, and then makes to follow Dean. Both Jack and Maggie are immersed in their task and in conversation, and don’t notice when Castiel crouches down beside Mary to whisper, “I might need your help later.”

She starts to answer, then must see something in his expression because she stops and then asks, “With—?”, and inclines her head towards where Dean had walked out. When Castiel nods, the happiness in her eyes dims a little, but she says, “Of course. Thank you for asking.” They share a smile of silent understanding.

Straightening, Castiel announces that he will have to come back later to decorate cookies after all. Jack promises to put some aside for him, and then Castiel ducks out of the kitchen. 

The door to their room is slightly ajar. Only the lamp on the left nightstand is on and Dean is lying curled up and with his back to it on the other side. He has a hand covering his eyes and Castiel walks around the bed to sit beside him. 

“D-d-don’t say it,” Dean grouses, lifting his hand just enough to watch as Castiel sits down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t w-w-wanna hear it.” Dean does take his hand though when Castiel offers it, and clings tight.

“Th-this is _n-n-not_ happening. It’s th-the w-w-worst t-t-timing. _Fuck.”_ He presses his hand back over his eyes, even the dim lighting of the bedside lamp too much. Castiel can see him swallow convulsively—the pain must be bad enough already that the nausea is also going strong. Sometimes it takes a while to get to this point, other times it overcomes Dean so quickly they barely have time to get everything ready.

Rubbing a thumb soothingly over the back of Dean’s hand, Castiel asks, “Do you need the bathroom before…?”

Dean frowns and then grimaces, “Yeah.”

“Alright.” Letting go of Dean’s hand, Castiel gently takes a hold of Dean’s shoulders and helps him sit up. Dean leans on him for a moment, eyes squeezed shut and panting against Castiel’s neck, swallowing every few seconds. 

When he’s ready, Castiel helps him stand and steadies him while he walks. Dean shields his eyes with one hand and stumbles every couple of steps. 

They’ve done this enough times by now that Dean is no longer embarrassed by having to sit down and lean on Cas while he urinates, and then having to be steadied while he washes his hands after. Castiel has discovered that when he simply does what is necessary without hesitating, Dean will calm down and that, in turn, will calm Castiel himself. 

Back in their room, he guides Dean to sit back down on the bed. He grabs a plastic bucket that he places in easy reach and fills a glass with water to be put on the nightstand. He helps Dean out of his pants and flannel while Dean blinks against what are probably black spots obstructing his vision. 

"Ready?" Castiel asks when Dean has lain down, his hand already hovering over Dean's temple. 

Dean starts to answer but then seems to choke, "Gonna—" 

Castiel only just manages to heave him up a little and grab the bucket before Dean's throwing up into it. Dean had felt less nauseous while in the bathroom, so Castiel had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. 

It's not a lot and mostly watery. When it's over, Castiel helps him take a sip from the glass so he can rinse out his mouth. 

"Have you eaten today?" 

Dean spits the water in the bucket and then lies his head back down on the pillow, panting. 

"Just c-c-coffee. Alread-d-dy felt off when I w-w-woke up. " His voice is hoarse. Castiel cards his fingers through Dean's hair and Dean sighs. 

"Hey, C-C-Cas? Don't mope in h-h-here w-w-with me the ent-t-tire time, 'kay? Go ha-ha-have some fun."

"I've already told Mary. She will come sit with you later if you're feeling well enough."

Dean's face twists unhappily, and Castiel suddenly realizes where he was going with this. 

"Dean, no, we won't celebrate without you."

"Right n-n-now we got ev-v-veryone in one pl-l-lace for once," Dean argues. "That won't l-l-last. This cra-a-ap show c-c-could take days. If you guys w-w-wait any longer t-t-to have C-C-Christmas, it's gonna be the next ye-ye-year." Castiel can see Dean’s throat muscles jump from the over-exertion. He shouldn’t be talking this much. 

"Dean, none of us care about that,” Castiel says, decisively. “Christmas won't happen without you. It wouldn't be the Winchester style if it was traditional anyway. No arguments."

When he'd started talking, Dean had lifted his hand a little to glare at Cas defiantly. It wasn't very impressive with his eyes drawing moisture even in the dim lighting. Dean holds the glare for a moment but then his expression softens.

"Alright, D-D-Doctor Sexy, you win."

Huffing out a breath of laughter, Castiel shakes his head. 

"We've been over this, Dean. I look nothing like him."

"W-w-with the right boots you would-d-d."

Their little moment of levity ends when Dean flinches as if struck by a blow from within, so very reminiscent of the time he had Michael locked in his mind. Castiel can't undo the damage Michael dealt him, but he can help Dean manage it. 

"Okay, I think it's time for all tough cowboys to let their Doctor Sexys help them sleep."

Despite everything, that somehow makes Dean smile. 

After pressing a kiss to Dean's forehead, Castiel rests his fingertips on Dean's temple. 

"I'll see you in a few hours."

"'Kay," Dean mumbles, eyes already closed, trusting Castiel completely. The glow of Grace briefly illuminates Dean's pale cheek, and then the tension goes out of him, his mouth going slack. 

He won't wake for at least three hours, and Castiel decides to use the time to get some rest himself. There's the blanket he's been knitting and the podcast he has yet to finish, but for now, what he really wants is just to lie next to Dean and listen to both of them breathe. 

There's a smudge of flour on Dean's arm. Knowing he won't wake, Castiel gently wipes it away. It makes Jack's smile flash through his mind again, the child-like excitement in his voice, _Try a little stardust, Cas!_

It's another little moment of happiness that Castiel never would have gotten to experience if it weren't for the man next to him. 

  
Making himself comfortable, Castiel lies down, takes Dean’s hand in his and thinks, _Thank you for you._


	3. Chapter 3

With the night so clear, and from their vantage point high above the lights of Lebanon, the stars are laid out like a tapestry above them. Ursa Major is to their right, and despite knowing it 80 light years away from Earth, to Castiel it feels a lot closer tonight. Using it to find the star Arcturus—the bear keeper—in the constellation of the Herdsman, Castiel stares at the star for a long time, trying to draw strength from its light and calm his nerves.

“Cas? Hey, Cas, you listening?”

Startled, Castiel flinches strongly enough that it makes Dean, who had been dozing with his head on Castiel’s shoulder, grumble and try to move even closer. 

Sam is standing on the opposite side of the fire in front of which Castiel and Dean have made themselves comfortable sitting on the logs that are set up in a circle around it. The fireplace is a recent addition to their home that they’ve all built together not far from the bunker’s entrance where it’s sheltered by a handful of trees. 

His breath fogging in the cold air, Sam is offering Castiel a gentle smile. “Stargazing?” 

The blanket that Dean had wrapped around himself in addition to the thick coat he’s wearing has slipped off his shoulders a little. “It’s a beautiful night,” Castiel answers, fussing with the blanket and tucking it back in place. 

If Sam catches his evasive tone, he doesn’t let it show. Pointing a thumb behind himself, he asks, “We’re done setting up the fireworks. You guys sure you wanna stay up here?”

Without lifting his head, Dean mumbles his answer into Castiel’s shoulder. 

“We’re good here,” Castiel translates, wrapping an arm around Dean’s back. 

Sam nods, probably having expected that answer. The tremble in Dean’s hands might not be visible right now with how thoroughly he’s wrapped up in thick winter clothes, but it’s impossible to miss how much his recent episode has drained him. This morning was the first time in two days that he's been able to leave their room for longer than trips to the bathroom, and he's still unsteady on his feet and sensitive to light and noise.

Checking his watch, Sam says, “Almost time. I better get back.” Then he turns and makes his way through the snow back down the hill, where Jack and Eileen and the fireworks are waiting. 

“You could j-j-join ‘em,” Dean offers, not for the first time, voice barely louder than the crackling of the fire in front of them. “‘S more fun th-th-than just w-w-watchin’.”

Castiel shakes his head. 

“I don’t mind, Dean.” 

“Cas—”

“I don’t want you sitting here alone while we’re having fun.”

Lifting his head off Castiel’s shoulder, Dean offers him a lopsided smirk.

“A-a-anglin’ for a New Year’s k-k-kiss, huh?”

Castiel consults his phone. “In two minutes and twenty-three seconds, yes.”

Dean snorts and then chuckles, shaking his head, his expression radiating fondness. Swaddled in thick clothing, hair mussed, shadows of exhaustion under his eyes that are crinkling in the corners, he is radiant. His throat and chest tight with emotion, Castiel can’t help staring at him. 

“Someth-th-thin’ o-o-on my face?” Dean asks, frowning in confusion when he notices, his breath fogging in front of his face. 

There’s a smudge of chocolate at the corner of his mouth, from the s’mores they had earlier. Reaching out, Castiel rubs it away with his thumb. Dean playfully tries to chase after it to bite it, pouting when Castiel evades him. 

“Tease,” Dean mock-complains, and then there’s yelling, and they both look down the hill just in time to see the first fireworks go off. Castiel barely has time to admire the golden and red sparks raining down before he’s grabbed by the tie and Dean is pressing their mouths together. 

The kiss gentles quickly after the initial rush and then merges into a second even softer one. Dean's lips are a little cold but the inside of his mouth is warm and tastes like s'mores. There’s a lovely pink blush on Dean's cheeks when he draws back from their kiss, and his smile is somehow smug and shy at the same time. It falters a little with whatever Castiel’s face is doing.

“Dude, you okay? You b-b-been k-k-kinda quiet a-a-all day. Something w-w-wrong?”

“No, I—” His voice is hoarse. Clearing his throat and mustering up his courage, he starts again. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to give you. At first I wanted to wait for your birthday, but then I felt it might be more appropriate for tonight. To—to start the new year with a promise.”

Clumsily, he reaches inside the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out the small satchel he's been carrying around with him for days now.

"I know we've talked about it before but not in a while, so I hope it's alright with you that I—dammit!" 

Fumbling the satchel, he's dropped it into the snow. He picks it up and grumpily dusts the snow off it. 

He wanted to do this right. 

"Cas—" Dean sounds bewildered and a little concerned. 

"I wanted to do this _right,_ I—" He blows out a breath, frustrated with himself. "I don't know why I'm nervous." 

He's holding onto the little satchel tightly, but his grip relaxes when Dean, having taken off one glove, gently wraps the fingers of one hand around his wrist. "Cas. 'S j-j-just me."

Castiel should make sure Dean stays warm and puts his glove back on. But first—

"I, um." He still doesn't know what to say, so he gently takes Dean's hand in his, reaches inside the satchel and puts one of the rings inside on Dean’s finger. The second, slightly wider ring, he places on Dean's palm. And then he lets go off his hand and draws back. 

Dean has gone completely still. He's staring at the rings, his eyes wide and vulnerable, the tremble in his hand even worse than before. 

"Dean? Are they—was this not right?"

Dean is so quiet, and that's usually a sign that something is wrong. Castiel is getting ready to apologize for presuming when Dean, clumsily, takes his other glove off. Without meeting Castiel’s eyes, Dean takes ahold of Castiel’s hand and puts the second ring on his finger. And then he's drawing Castiel into a tight, clinging hug.

"You d-d-dumbass," Dean says from where he's pressing the side of his face against Castiel's, his voice affectionate and watery. From this close, Castiel can hear the hitch in his breath. 

Finally remembering that he has arms, Castiel wraps them around Dean in return and rubs a hand over his back. 

Down the hill, he can hear the noises of Sam and Jack and Eileen engaged in a snow fight, and further away the fireworks in the city. All of it fades into the background until there's just the soft crackling of the fire, and Dean's heart beating against his, and the stars above them, silent but bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said in the beginning, i almost didn't post this fic at all because it fought me so hard. so if you enjoyed it, it would mean a lot to me if you could leave me a comment and [reblog it on tumblr](https://cuddlemonsterdean.tumblr.com/post/190447801566/try-a-little-stardust-a-deancas-fic-for-deans) !
> 
> i keep seeing people subscribe to stories of mine that are finished instead of to me (meaning they won't be notified when i post a new work). if you want to receive an email notification every time i post something on AO3, please click on my username and then on dashboard and then on subscribe! [direct link](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpietheThundergod)

**Author's Note:**

> [click here to reblog Caro's beautiful art <3](https://cuddlemonsterdean.tumblr.com/post/622034658009464833/wigglebox-cuddlemonsterdean-carolinasacco)


End file.
